


Dr. Perky's Generic Safehouse

by luulapants



Series: Tumblr ficlets [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luulapants/pseuds/luulapants
Summary: Peter and Jackson take exception to the quality of food stocking the safe house they're holed up in.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tumblr ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894675
Comments: 16
Kudos: 126





	Dr. Perky's Generic Safehouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiniestawoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/gifts).



> For the prompt: Stiles, Peter, Jackson, Derek, and "Money Doesn't Grow On Trees"

“Is it still bleeding?” Derek said, stopping outside the bathroom door.

Jackson stepped out, shirtless and pressing a bloody cloth against his side. He pulled it away to reveal mostly-healed flesh. “I think it’s good now.”

From the kitchen, Peter called, “Stiles, who did you say owns this place?”

Stiles was squatting in front of the fireplace, his tongue poking between his lips as he carefully stacked the wood inside. “It’s one of Chris’s. Why?”

He looked back and saw Peter leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, a maroon colored soda can in hand. “Christopher has his faults, but I never took him for a bargain shopper,” he commented.

“What? Oh, I mean, I’m the last one that stocked the place.”

“So this is your fault,” Peter concluded.

He tossed the can to Jackson, who turned it over and read, “Dr. _Perky’s_ spicy soda.”

“It’s just Dr. Pepper,” Stiles said. He lit a scrap of paper and lowered it into the fireplace, watching as the smaller sticks caught.

“It’s not Dr. Pepper,” Jackson argued. “It’s Dr. _Perky_.”

“Same thing.”

Peter disappeared back into the kitchen, loudly announcing, “It gets better! Let’s see… we’ve got ‘Is This Butter?’, ‘imitation pasteurized cheese food’…”

“Come on, it’s not like real dairy would last very long here,” Stiles argued.

Derek snorted. “I don’t think that’s the objection.” He dropped onto the couch, apparently resigning himself to whatever crusade Peter had taken up in the kitchen. Jackson, on the other hand, walked over to join him.

“On to the pantry!” Peter called out.

“God, I don’t know if I want to know,” Jackson laughed.

“Cocoa Peanut Butter Spheres cereal!”

“Alright, maybe it’s not the healthiest,” Stiles allowed.

“You’re really not getting it,” Derek sighed.

Jackson leaned out the kitchen door with a tall canister of chips in hand. “Prongles. Nice.”

“What is your _deal_?” Stiles demanded.

“For god’s sake, you couldn’t even get brand name tomato sauce?” Peter griped.

Realization settled over Stiles’s face, chased soon after by incredulity. “What, you’re prejudiced against _store brand_? It’s the same thing in a different package.”

“Panburger Partner, this is the winner!” Peter declared, carrying the package of off-brand Hamburger Helper out into the living room. He held it up for Derek to see.

“You’re seriously such a fucking snob,” Stiles snapped. “It’s the same thing but cheaper.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Peter insisted. “They use cheaper ingredients. It doesn’t taste as good.”

Derek snorted. “And how would you know? When’s the last time you deigned to eat generic?”

“Yeah, bitch,” Stiles chimed in.

“I got a better one!” Jackson called from the kitchen. He came out holding a jar of store-brand Nutella, which he put in front of his crotch with a cocky smirk. “Nut Master.”

Stiles tried not to smile at that, biting the inside of his cheek and insisting, “You’re a fucking child.” He jabbed a finger toward Peter, then waved it between the two of them. “And you’re both a couple of spoiled rich brats. Come on, I had to stock an entire safe house. Money doesn’t grow on trees.”

“And this complexion doesn’t grow on processed cheese food,” Peter insisted, gesturing to his face.

“No, it grows on grave dirt and the blood of the innocent,” Derek deadpanned.

“See?” Stiles said. “Derek doesn’t mind the store brand. Derek is grateful that we have a safe, out-of-the-way, well-stocked safehouse.”

“Derek’s hoping to get his dick sucked when you two go to bed,” Jackson chimed in.

Peter looked back at Jackson with a theatrical cringe. “Ooh, let’s hope he didn’t stock generic condoms.”

“Not ribbed for her pleasure,” Jackson agreed, clicking his tongue and giving Stiles a faux-pitying look.

“You’re jackasses,” Stiles insisted, cheeks flaming. He and Derek still hadn’t defined whatever this _thing_ between them was, but apparently keeping it on the down-low from the pack was out of the question. Stupid werewolves.

Derek got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. On the way, he snagged the Panburger Partner from Peter’s hands, then the Nut Master from Jackson’s. He paused to pat Jackson’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Jax. We keep condoms in the Jeep. And they’re ribbed for my pleasure.”


End file.
